“You’ll know before many minutes,” I said, “why we were both out and are in late. Helen will want to surprise you and I’ll say nothing to spoil the effect.” Nothing I could have said would have spoiled the effect because they would not have believed me. As it was Helen came in sooner than I could have thought possible, looking her best and accurately playing the formal hostess with a feeble attempt at a surprise in store. The dinner was a great success, with much laughter and high spirits, everybody carried away by Helen’s sallies and everybody amazed that she could be so gay. “I cannot understand,” Paul’s wife whispered to me, “how she can ever get through the party. It would kill me in her place.” “It won’t kill her,” I said confidently. “You may be sure of that.” The children had arrived to the number of more than thirty and only the inevitably late Amstelhuysens had not come. Helen announced that she would not wait for them. “The tree is lighted,” she said. “We’ll have the doors thrown open and go in.” We were all gathered in the front parlor. The twins panted in at the last instant. The grown-ups were pulling motto-crackers and the children were throwing confetti. The doors opened, the tree filled all the back of the room. The candles blazed and twinkled. And in front of it, in a simple little white dress, with a fairy’s wand in her hand, tipped with a silver star, clean, healthy-looking and full of spirits was Amy, the fairy of the hour. 1909 THE SNOUT THE SNOUT I